


not even at all

by youheldyourbreath



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), twitter voted on this story and we wrote it together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youheldyourbreath/pseuds/youheldyourbreath
Summary: Ned Leeds is sick to death of being the new kid.After all, there is nothing remarkable about this new school-- until her.Betty Brant is too beautiful for words. There is only one problem. She is not allowed to date unless her cousin does. And, as a rule, Michelle Jones doesn't date.Which is where Peter Parker comes in.
Relationships: Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	not even at all

**Author's Note:**

> we are writing this fic together via twitter. it is a choose your own adventure story. come vote (https://twitter.com/ogspideyxchelle/status/1244668877834862603?s=20)!

Ned Leeds is sick to death of being the new kid. He's been the new kid at nine different schools in seven years. It isn't fun. Towns might be different all over the country, but being the new kid is exactly the same whether he is in a coastal city or some freezing station in Alaska. But being the new kid comes with the territory of being an army brat.

He doesn't get settled or attached to new people or places. It only makes it harder when his father inevitably gets transferred. He really tries not to be bitter. After all, he has seen more of the United States than most people get to in a lifetime. And, in his opinion, it is the most beautiful country in the whole world. 

Or at least it was the most beautiful thing in the world--until he sees _her_. 

He spots Betty Brant his first day at Midtown School of Science and Technology. She seems to float on a cloud of loveliness in her pale blue shift. The sweet-faced blonde does not notice him. He doesn't mind. Being in her orbit is enough to make his entire day. Maybe his entire month. Better yet, his entire year. 

"Not gonna happen," a boy with almost auburn hair says jovially, as he claps Ned on the shoulder. He seems to appear from nowhere. 

Embarrassed, Ned startles out of his trance. He attempts to smother his dumb-founded expression and replies, "I don't know what you're talking about." 

The other boy laughs, but it is decidedly not cruel. It goes a long way to soothe Ned's embarrassment. "Her name is Betty Brant. And I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

Ned offers his hand and Peter good-naturedly shakes it. It is in that moment, Ned decides he likes Peter. He can't remember the last time someone was nice to the new kid on the first day of school. Actually, Ned can't remember the last time anyone even spoke to him on the first day of school. If he doesn't screw this up, he thinks he might even make a friend. "I'm Ned."

"Hi Ned," Peter says. Then, his eyes circle back to the beautiful blonde girl that is now gliding away from him down the hallway, linked arm-and-arm with another girl. Peter interjects his daydream with some passing words, "It isn't going to happen with Betty." 

"It could," Ned cracks on his voice. 

"It won't. She's got," Peter seems to search for the right word, It takes him a moment and the shade of a smirk to decide on the perfect ending to his sentence before he finishes, "a _complicated_ situation." 

Ned's eyebrows knit in confusion. He tries not to pine after Betty as she turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. "Complicated how?" he practically sighs.

Just then, the hallway scatters. Ned frantically looks around, expecting some kind of national emergency, like the drills he endured on countless bases as a kid, but he comes up short a catastrophe. He turns to Peter and hesitantly asks, "What's going on?" 

Peter does not look shaken or even the least bit bothered while his peers look for anywhere else to be. The other boy gestures down the long hallway to a girl. She is tall and willowy in stature and observes the world with dark, knowing eyes. It makes Ned feel seen in a way that makes him extremely uncomfortable. At once, he understands his peers aversion to the girl. As she charges down the hallway, he notices other things about her, too. She is in possession of a serious mouth, near-frowning. And her arms are over-filled with substantial books. 

But the most striking characteristic about her is that she is unreasonably pretty. 

As she passes by, Peter remarks, "Lots of books today, Michelle." 

She rolls her eyes and replies with pointed, performative sweetness, "Peter, excavated yourself from the tech lab this morning, I see." 

As quick, he says, "Charming as always." 

Michelle rolls her eyes. "Bite me." 

"Cute, too." 

"You're loathsome." 

Peter only grins in reply.

Ned holds his breath the entire exchange. He does not want to be seen by Michelle. Or noticed. As new kid, his number one goal is to escape his education unscathed before he is shipped off somewhere new. Whatever pissing match exists between Peter and Michelle he wants no part of it. 

Remarkably, Peter is still smiling when Michelle retreats the same way Betty went earlier. Ned determines Peter might be crazy. "Who the heck was that?" 

Peter is still looking after her, smiling like mad, when he says, "Complicated." 

"What?" Ned sputters. 

"That's Michelle Jones. And she's the complicated part of the Betty Brant situation." 

* * *

At lunch, Ned follows Peter to his favorite table. It is a strange turn of events. Peter doesn't dislike Ned or anything, but it is weird to have lunch with anyone. He rarely does.

Look, Peter isn't a loner per say, but he wouldn't consider himself exactly well-liked. He doesn't think he even crosses the radar of most of his peers beyond the occasional blip of being the freaky smart kid in all of his science and technology classes. And it takes a lot to stick out as the freaky smart kid in a freaky smart school. 

There is only one other person at Midtown that sticks out as a freaky smart kid and they don't get along well enough to share lunch. 

But it is a nice change of pace to share lunch with someone. Even if it is the new, scared-shitless kid who can't seem to stop gaping at Betty Brant. 

Peter pulls the tab of his pudding cup and taps Ned with his spoon to catch his attention. The boy mournfully draws his eyes away. "You gotta stop," Peter tells him. 

"I don't understand," Ned mopes.

"I've told you. Betty isn't allowed to date. Her Dad is super strict about all that stuff. He's a gynecologist and is convinced his daughters are gonna get pregnant if they so much as hold hands with a boy. It's a whole thing." He happily eats his pudding as Ned continues to torture himself by pinning after the ever-unattainable Betty Brant.

Peter sighs. Ned's forlorn state is officially ruining his pudding. It isn't that Peter doesn't feel badly for Ned-- he knows what it is like to admire someone and for it to be a complete non-starter-- but Betty Brant has been off the market since middle school. He doesn't even think he is capable of looking at her and seeing her as someone that dates. It is unimaginable. 

Ned just got the memo later than the rest of the student population. 

His friend loudly drops his head to the cafeteria table with a thud. "She's so pretty."

"She is," Peter agrees. "She's nice, too. Well, _nicer_." 

"Nicer than who?" 

"Her cousin. Sister? Michelle." 

Peter watches as Ned implodes with the information. "Wait. What?" 

"I told you. She's the complicated part of the Betty situation. They're cousins. Practically sisters. Her parents died in a car crash when she was, I think, thirteen or fourteen?" Ned seems incapable of processing the data dump that is happening in his lap. Peter tries to be gentle and explains, "Betty's Dad is Michelle's Uncle. She was sent to live with them. They're practically sisters."

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

"Betty isn't allowed to date unless Michelle does. And because Michelle has absolutely no interest in dating, Betty doesn't." 

A horrible silence overcomes their mostly empty table. Something occurs to Ned in real-time that is destined to ruin Peter's entire life. He doesn't know it is about to come, but he can see the glimmer of a terrible idea mushroom in Ned's eyes like an atom bomb. Peter starts to protest before his potential new friend can even voice his bad plan. "No. I don't know. I don't want to know. No." 

"But Peter you don't even know what the idea is yet." 

"I am invisible. I enjoy being invisible. Wrapping me into whatever plot your hatching is going to be anti-invisible." 

Ned groans, "I like her so much." 

Peter gapes in disbelief. "You haven't said two words to her." 

"Who needs words when you have a soul connection?"

"Ned--"

"Please. Be my friend and just hear me out." And Peter can't help but pause. He hasn't had a friend in a really long time. He thinks he would like to have one. He thinks he and Ned might be on the way to being real, proper friends. Peter thinks Midtown might be easier to endure if he had someone to shoulder it with. 

So, he says something he can intuitively tell he is going to regret. "What is the plan?" 

Ned beams. 

* * *

"It's, like, I like my Adidas shoes but I love my Prada handbag," Betty says, as she climbs into the passenger seat of MJ's car. Michelle tries not to let her irritation seep out and poison her cousin, but it spikes the longer she is forced to suffer this conversation. 

"Mhmm," she hums, tossing her second-hand bag into the trunk of her car.

"And Sally says she really loves her Adidas shoes, but she doesn't have a Prada handbag. So, how can she really know is she loves her Adidas?" MJ slams the trunk of her car and circles around to the front of her van. The faded purple monstrosity rattles from the force of the back door shutting. Betty jumps, "Jesus, MJ." 

"Sorry," she acquiesces. "It's been a really long day. I keep trying to get the school to go plastic free in the lunch room, but Morita is making it difficult."

"He's the principal," Betty softly points out.

Michelle shoots her cousin a side-glance and slides into the front seat of her car. She tightens her knuckles around the steering wheel and takes a deep breath. "Ignore me."

Betty shakes her head. "You've been working really hard on this campaign. I know you're upset. It's okay to be upset."

She immediately softens. Her little cousin is a lot of things, but she is unwaveringly kind in the face of Michelle's, well, Michelle-isms. She always has been. "Thanks."

"You know what might make you feel better?"

The softness she feels does not last. Michelle frowns, "No."

Betty groans. Her little cousin throws her hands up in the air and complains, "You never want to go out."

"That's true."

Her cousin turns on her knee and faces her head-on in the driver's seat. Michelle does a masterful job ignoring her as she turns on the car and it roars to booming life. The heaving sound her engine makes isn't exactly the most comforting noise, but the purple monster has been on the urge of crapping out for years. Michelle accepts its eventual death.

The car does not dissuade Betty from ranting. "Flash is having a party this weekend. And if you would just, for once in your life, pick anybody to go with, I could go to the party. With my friends. Please, MJ. I won't even ask you for anything ever again." Michelle rolls her eyes. Betty amends, "I won't ask you for anything for, like, a month."

"No. No way."

"Michelle!"

"Besides," she talks over her cousin's whining. "It isn't like anybody has asked me, anyway." 

The knock at her car window startles both of the girls. Betty even yelps in surprise. Michelle clutches her hand over her chest and settles her irregular heartrate. 

Her eyes cut to the person responsible and, _of course_ , it is Peter Parker. 

He is looking at her with that same challenging, almost charmed look he gives her in classes. She wants to chuck her sneaker at his head. Michelle only engages with Peter Parker when she absolutely has to in class. Their rivalry is legendary and he is the reason it is so contentious. So, she doesn't feel badly frowning at him now. 

She rolls down her window with the manual crank. Her eyes are slits. "What?" she grits out.

Peter, like the Labrador he is, grins, "Heya, MJ."

"My friends call me MJ," she reminds him for the hundredth time in their epic, three-year feud. 

"So you say," he brushes her comment off. "Look, what are you doing Saturday night?" 

Betty answers on her behalf. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing." 

Peter ducks his head to look inside the car and smiles at her cousin in a soft, kind manner. It makes MJ's insides squirm unhappily. "Hi Betty," he says.

"Hey Peter!"

"I'm busy," Michelle says, intercutting their conversation.

"No, she's not," Betty leans over the gear shift.

Michelle swats her cousin away. "Yes, I am."

Peter raises his eyebrow. "Well, if you're _not_ busy, I was thinking maybe....you...and me....we could. I dunno." 

"Yes!" Betty cries at the same moment MJ scowls, "No." 

"Great," Peter chimes in. "So, Saturday then." 

"Flash's party! Nine o'clock," Betty supplies. And Michelle realizes she has never wanted to kick her cousin more. It is one thing for her to whine about not getting to go to a party she wants to because MJ isn't one for social gatherings, but agreeing to a date with Peter Parker on her behalf is too far. She wants to lecture the pair of them about women's freedom to choose, but when she finally has enough wherewithal to make her grand speech, Peter is jogging away toward the nearest train stop. 

She doesn't know how she knows he takes the train. It is a weird nugget of information that her brain supplies without asking. 

* * *

Ned doesn't realize how sick he is over the whole Betty Brant situation until his phone pings after school. He ungracefully scrambles over his bed to the table tucked in the corner of his room to lurch for his phone. 

Realistically, he knows he should care more about getting acclimated to his new school and home, but it is all he can do to not think about Betty every second of every minute. He also knows he shouldn't care so much about a girl he hasn't even spoken to yet. She could be horrible. But he doubts it. 

How could an actual angel sent from Heaven be anything other than wonderful?

Ned might be setting himself up for disappointment. Ned doesn't care. 

He clicks his phone on and reads the message fitfully. 

**Peter Parker: Michelle is coming to the party Saturday. Betty will be there. You're welcome.**

Ned draws his phone to his chest and smiles. 

* * *

Going to some party with his long-time rival is weird on many accounts. For one, there is no dress code for _hey-we-don't-really-like-each-other-and-I'm-only-taking-you-out-on-a-date-because-my-new-friend-likes-your-cousin-and-he-needed-you-to-have-a-date-so-she-could-go_. He settles on dark jeans and a flannel. And two, he isn't sure he knows how to have a conversation with Michelle without it turning into an argument. 

He knows she is smart and witty and, fine, admittedly, incandescently gorgeous, but that isn't enough to go on to have a cordial conversation.

When she arrives, she looks just as unhappy as he feels, which is some consolation, but Peter drudges up a smile. "Hi Michelle."

She rolls her eyes and storms past him into the loud party. He takes a moment, a deep breath and glares up at the dark sky, before he follows after her. 

As if by some stroke of magic, she is already missing. Peter curses under his breath. This arrangement is a lot to endure for a new friend. He decides Ned Leeds better end up being the best friend he has ever had, otherwise he is going to be sour about this night forever. 

He starts to search for her, dipping in and out of the boundless crowds at the party, to no avail. He curses louder. 

"Oh heya, Peter," Betty grins. She has a half-empty red solo cup in her hand and is very obviously not occupied by Ned. Peter looks over his shoulder to see if he can spot the other boy. This entire half-concocted plan was for the express purpose of him being friendly with Betty. He tries not to be furious that his friend is nowhere to be seen. 

He graciously smiles at Betty. "Hey Betty." 

She drunkenly takes his hand and squeezes it appreciatively. "Peter! Peter. No, seriously, Peter." 

He unlocks their hands. "Yes?" 

"Thank you," she hiccups, seriously. "Did you know I've, like, never been to a party? MJ never wants to go. And so I end up at home with her. And just...thank you." 

"Oh. Uh. You're welcome." 

His words don't seem to make much of an impact. The blonde is already off in search of her friends and more alcohol before he can ask if she has seen her cousin. 

Peter frowns. This is the worst night ever. 

There is an incessant thudding coming from the room at the end of the hall. Peter ducks his head and covers his ears to muffle the sound, but it is too loud to ignore completely. It is also the only room he has not searched for Michelle yet. With a frown, he makes his way down the hall into the barely lit dance orgy. 

People are gyrating and sloppily kisses in every inch of the room. Peter keeps his arms close to his body and his head down so he doesn't accidentally _touch_ anything. "Michelle!" he shouts. The room is too loud for his voice to carry. 

He presses his palms to his eyes in frustration. And when the white dots of vision piece together back into a full picture, he notices the door out to the back porch. He stares. Perhaps he has not checked everywhere. 

It takes some navigation and three shots forced upon his person by very drunk robotics club members before Peter reaches the sanctuary of the back porch. 

And miracle of miracles, Michelle is there. 

She is sitting on some swing, swaying back and forth, and she is entirely alone. Peter approaches her as quietly as he can manage before he drops into the swing beside her. She doesn't turn her head to look at him when she says, "Found me." 

"What the hell, Michelle," he frowns. "I've been looking for you for, like, a half hour."

"You found me," she shrugs.

"Why'd you take off like that? We're here together." 

She snaps her eyes to his and he is hit with a wash of intensity. She takes no prisoners and Peter does his best not to buckle under the ferocity of her gaze. He stares right back willing himself to look a shade of how irritated he actually is with her. 

Finally, Michelle shrugs, "Not really." 

"Yes really. I asked you to come. You said yes." 

"No," she squints, appraising him. Measuring things within him he cannot begin to fathom. "You asked and my cousin said yes. The only reason I'm here is because she's badgered me about it for the last three days." 

"We're still here together." 

"And why is that? Huh? You don't even like me as a person." 

"That's not true," he says. He is not sure if she is more surprised that he says that or if he is more surprised to learn that he means it. "I think you're really smart. Just because we compete in class--" 

She rolls her eyes. "It's more than that."

"Fine. Admittedly, our relationship is frictious." She snorts. He plows on, undeterred, "But we're Juniors now. Eventually something had to give." 

Michelle meets his eyes for a beat and something new _jolts_ between them. It takes him back but he doesn't dare break their pseudo stare down. Transfixed, he isn't certain he could look away, even if he wanted to.

It is unnerving when her eyes finally do tear away and settle downward in her lap for a while. Peter sits beside her and wills himself to not allow panic to mount with each ticking moment. He knows what to do with a smart Michelle and even a smart-mouthed Michelle. The quiet variety is new. 

"When we were freshman, you made fun of my hair," she whispers. 

Peter guffaws in disbelief. "No, I didn't." 

She lifts her head and he is silenced by the pain in her eyes. "Yes, you did." 

"No--"

"Yes." She looks down at the anxious hands in her lap and Peter finds himself watching them, too. They twiddle nervously. "You sat behind me in bio and told the teacher my hair was in the way. In front of the whole class. It was humiliating." 

The memory starts to stitch together hazily, like some half-remembered dream. He studies her intently, assembling the puzzle of their contentious relationship all of these years. "That's why you don't like me." 

"No," she sniffs. "You're annoying, too." 

He lightly laughs. It surprises him. He reaches across the swings and takes her hands. He waits for her to yank them away, but they stay safely trapped in his hold. "Michelle. I'm so sorry. I didn't--I mean, I wasn't trying to embarrass you. Your hair was so long. And it was on my desk. I didn't want to touch it or move it out of the way. And I was too shy to...I dunno...ask you to move it. So, I thought telling the teacher..." 

"It was a brand new school. My parents had _just_ died. And you were calling me out in front of the whole class. People laughed, Peter." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't--"

She brushes his hand away. It drops lamely to the space between their two swings. "It's fine." 

Peter insists, "No, its not." He hauls himself off of the swing and lowers himself to his knees in front of her. She doesn't look at him, but it feels purposeful, like she is avoiding showing any emotion. Peter figures being kicked in the teeth would be less painful than this realization. All these years they could have been friends if he hadn't been so _fourteen_. "For what its worth now, I'm sorry. You have amazing hair. Beautiful, even." 

She peaks at him. "You're being a butthead." 

He emits a strangled laugh. "I'm a butthead?" 

She nods. "Yes, a butthead." 

"Okay," he agrees. "I'm a butthead." He dips his head to try and catch her skirting eyes. When they finally link that unusual hum returns. "Do you think you could forgive me?" 

Sanctimoniously, she replies, "On one condition." 

"Anything." 

"You tell me why you asked me here." 

He realizes this is his moment to come clean. This could be a new start, if he has the courage to grasp it. He recoils. Instead, the lie comes out of him too easily. "I figured we've been fighting all these years. Why not be friends?" Something cold and lethal strangles his heart when she shyly smiles. It should count as a crime that something so deceitful should produce the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

"Oh is that what we're gonna be?" she says, smartly.

"Eh. On second thought, I've already got one friend," he teases. 

She bites on her lip and something slowly starts to bloom in him. The magnitude of the what won't be clear for weeks still, but it prickles at his conscious, nagging him. "Shut up," she says without any bite. Michelle thoughtlessly brushes some curls out of her eyes. "So, what are we gonna be, then?" 

Peter remembers the pong table in the front room. He offers his hand. "Pong partners?" 

She throws her head back and laughs. It is the first time he has ever heard her laughter, or at least the first time he can remember actually listening to it. It stupefies him. "Yeah," she agrees. "Fine. Pong partners." 

She takes his hand. 

It is only when they are back inside, dominating at beer pong, does Peter realize he almost kissed her. 

* * *


End file.
